


Touch

by Wickedrider98



Series: The Language of Your Heart [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Consent, Cuddling, M/M, Mute!Jon, Or as I like to call it "one of my favorite JM Tropes", Psychological Trauma, Trauma, i love this au so much, soft, someone please give Jon a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 05:22:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20633768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wickedrider98/pseuds/Wickedrider98
Summary: When Martin finds out the extent of Jon's trauma caused by past events, he comes up with a plan to help him heal.





	Touch

**Author's Note:**

> So.. I'm physically incapable of writing in any sort of a linear timeline (and also didn't think this would be a series), so for context this takes place while Jon is still on bedrest, but after they kiss

“Jon, do you need more water?” Martin asked as he straightened up Jon’s room in the Archives.  
_No_, Jon wrote on his post-its, _the cup is full._  
“Food?”  
_Not hungry right now._  
“How are you doing on post-its?” Martin asked, “do you need any more?”  
_No_, Jon said, _I think I’ll be okay for a bit longer._  
The blonde man shook his head.  
“Jon, I told you, you can ask for things.” he asserted, “It's half-four, and the last time you ate was nine.”  
_I’m fine, Martin._  
“Jon. You need to eat something. I’ll make you some soup?”  
Jon rolled his eyes.  
_Fine._  
Martin smiled, and stepped out of the room, returning soon after with a steaming blue bowl with a small chunk of bread on a matching plate. He placed it on the nightstand next to Jon’s bed.  
"Basira needs some help reorganizing a file cabinet. I'll be back as soon as I can."  
Martin murmured, "finish eating and get some rest okay?"  
_Okay._  
He smiled and placed a hand on Jon's shoulder. The Archivist's demeanor changed instantly, his body tensing as his gray eyes stared at him with just a hint of fear before he shook his head, the emotion gone. Jon's cheeks had started to flush pink as he quickly looked away from the taller man.  
_Sorry. About that._  
"Don't- don't be sorry," Martin stammered, "I just thought, I'm really sorry I should've…"  
"Martin, are you helping or not!" An irritated Basira cut him off. He rolled his eyes.  
"I really need to get out there, I'll be back."  
_Okay._  
***  
Martin’s mind drifted as he handed Basira manilla folders of statements, still thinking about Jon’s reaction to his touch. Jon had an array of scars on his body, he knew that, but it hadn’t occurred to him just how much of a toll it had taken on his mind.  
_He probably doesn’t know either_, Martin realized, _he hasn’t been touched in a way that didn’t hurt in… months, years even._  
Short of the hospital, but even that had been purely professional, to clean his wounds, buzz the hair that hadn't been burned off, get him into a hospital gown, and hook his unmoving body to monitors and IVs. Orderlies came to check his vitals and whatnot, but it was hardly a gentle procedure. Cold gloves hands manipulating lifeless limbs to get readings of nothing on machines were hardly what Martin would call soft touches. He thought back to before the Unknowing. Jon had left to follow Gertrude's clues, and come home with more healing wounds that had turned into jagged white scars on his skin. And before that he had a stab wound from "Michael", the scorched hand that Martin assumed had no nerve endings in it, and of course the worm scars…  
He shook his head, pulling himself out of a spiral before he could allow it to begin. No, Martin told himself, this isn't about that. This is about Jon. About showing him, reminding him that someone laying a hand on him shouldn't be synonymous with pain.  
"Are we almost done?" He asked, trying to hide the urgency in his voice.  
"I think he'll be alright without you until we're done Martin." Basira didn't look at him.  
"I didn't ask that."  
"Are you going to tell me you weren't going to go dashing off to his room to check up on him?"  
"Is it so bad that I care about him?"  
"No, it's bad that you're letting it take up all of your time."  
"He's afraid of being _touched_, Basira." Martin finally snapped, "I put a hand on his shoulder, and he stared at me like I was about to hit him. It's been months, maybe years since someone laid a hand on him that didn't result in pain. I want to show him that someone touching him is a positive thing. Is that so bad?"  
Basira was silent for a moment, before slowly nodding.  
"Fine." She said, "go to him."  
***  
"Can I hold your hand?"  
Jon seems taken aback by the question, pausing for a moment before scribbling on a post it note.  
_Of course._  
Martin slowly laces his fingers with Jon's burned ones, his thumb making a careful circular motion on the back of his charred palm.  
_I can't feel that, you know._  
Martin cocked an eyebrow.  
_Jude, when I, when she shook my hand, you can see what it did. I couldn't go to the hospital, was still wanted for murder after all, so I just dealt with it._  
"Oh, Jon.." Martin's voice was quiet. Jon gave him a small, broken smile.  
_It's okay_, he wrote, _I appreciate it nonetheless. It's nice to be touched by someone who doesn't want to hurt me._  
A rush of love and protection geared toward this broken, wonderful man by his side flooded into Martin's chest.  
"Of course."  
Jon yawned, causing Martin to chuckle.  
"You didn't rest while I was gone, did you?"  
_I had other things to do._  
He glanced down at the book Martin had brought him the other day that was laying on his nightstand, the bookmark further in.  
"Will you rest now then?"  
_But you're here now._  
"Jon."  
The Archivist rolled his eyes.  
_Fine._  
He laid down and settled against the pillow.  
"Jon?", one eye opened and focused on Martin, "can I stroke your hair?"  
He nodded.  
_If you'd like to._  
Martin's fingers slowly splayed through his short brown hair, nails gently scratching against his scalp. The Archivist sighed at the petting, a soft smile playing at his lips.  
"You're enjoying this?" Martin asked, his tone slightly more teasing than he intended. Jon nodded, fighting to keep his eyes open. He lost the battle eventually, exhaustion finally overtaking him as he started to doze off peacefully. Martin placed a tiny kiss on his forehead.  
"Sleep well, Jon." He whispered before leaving the room.  
***  
In the days to follow, Martin noticed Jon slowly becoming more receptive to his touch. He didn't freeze anytime Martin lifted a hand, and sometimes he'd even touch him in turn. He'd put his hand over Martin's when the blonde laced their fingers together, sometimes he'd even kiss the back of his boyfriend's palm. Martin tried to keep his touches below the shoulder for now, sans the times Jon allowed him to run his fingers through his hair while he tried to fall asleep. However, Martin was slowly growing braver.  
"Jon?" he asked one day. The Archivist's smoky eyes focused on his.  
"Can I, can I touch you, your face?"  
Jon grabbed a sticky note and scribbled a simple response.  
_Yes._  
Martin reached his hand out, slow and deliberate. Jon's eyes didn't leave his palm, his body slightly rigid as though he was waiting for something bad to happen. He softened a bit when Martin gently cupped his jaw, softly stroking his cheek with his thumb. After it became apparent that Martin didn't want to cause him pain, he found the smaller man leaning into the touch, eyes slowly drooping closed. This lasted for several minutes, before Jon's eyes opened and he repositioned himself so that he could right while Martin held him.  
_Martin?_ the note read, _can I ask why you always ask to touch me?_  
Martin took his other hand and placed it on Jon's other cheek.  
"I know you haven't had much positive physical contact as of recent," he murmured as he cradled Jon's face in hands, "I saw how you went rigid that time I touched your shoulder. I don't want to be the cause of your fear Jon. I don't want you to associate touch with pain. I want to show you that you don't have to be afraid, not of me. And I thought that would be the best way to show it. You deserve to be touched gently and warmly, and I want to make sure I'm making you comfortable."  
He felt a warm bead of liquid his his hand.  
_Thank you_, Jon's handwriting had grown shaky as he tried to contain his emotions, _you have no idea how much that means to me._  
Martin pulled him into his arms, allowing him to cry into his shoulder while he rubbed small circles into his thin back.  
"Its okay Jon," he murmured, "I'm here."  
***  
"I brought you Pride and Prejudice," Martin laid a book in Jon's lap, "you said you finished American Gods, so I asked Basira to pick it up."  
_Thank you Martin._  
"You're very welcome." The blonde smiled, "can I kiss your cheek?"  
_Of course._  
Soft lips pressed against Jon's skin, making him smile. He looked down at the book and back up to Martin before grabbing a sticky note.  
_The painkillers are messing with my head again_, he explained, _my eyes won't focus_, _but I'd really like to start reading this. Would you read it aloud to me?_  
A warm smile came to Martin's face.  
"Of course."  
He took a seat on the chair by Jon's bedside and began to read.  
***  
Martin stopped reading when he felt weight slump against his side, and turned to see Jon’s head resting on his shoulder. He could feel himself going red as he reveled in the first bit of contact Jon had initiated since their kiss. Jon’s content gray gaze drifted up to meet his as a blush spread across his face, scribbling a quick note on the sticky note.  
_Sorry,_ he wrote,_should’ve asked before I laid down._  
__ “No, it’s alright. You’re more than welcome to stay,” Martin murmured, “c-can I kiss you?”____  
_Yes._  
Martin’s lips pressed against his forehead.  
“Do you want me to keep reading?” He asked. Jon shook his head.__  
_I’m a little tired._  
Another light kiss on the cheek.  
“Alright,” he murmured, shutting the book, “I’ll leave you alone then.”__  
_No, stay. You’re warm. And I like having you here with me._  
“Can… Can I lay down? With you?”__  
_Martin Blackwood, are you asking to sleep with me?_  
“No! Not like that! I mean…” he caught sight of Jon’s smile, “oh, I mean… if you want we could, nap together?”__  
_I’d like that._  
Martin settled onto the bed next to him, wrapping his arms around Jon’s waist and pulling him to his chest. Martin rubbed his back and shoulders, humming soft lullabies in his ear as Jon relaxed in his embrace. He rested his hand on the blonde man's chest, over where his heart was, it's message clear.  
_This is nice._  
Martin kissed his forehead as Jon finally gave in to sleep.  
"I love you." He whispered. Jon reached up and touched Martin's cheek, bringing his face down so he could rest his forehead on Jon's.  
_I love you too._


End file.
